


Never

by Steena



Series: Transformers song inspired fics [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Love Triangles, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 19:30:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/pseuds/Steena
Summary: Ironhide has a crush. On his best friend's Conjux. Oh, he wants Drift so bad, and Drift seems to want the same thing. But he couldn't do that to Ratchet. Never.





	Never

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "Ingenting alls" by Mimikry. Rough translation in the end notes

"So, _stud,_ enough about your conquests. Before you wake up the old party ambulance, and make me fucking jealous." Ratchet snickers, taking another swig of his mid grade. "Haven't met someone special yet? Seems like the entire team is settling down these days. So many conjugal rites. The war has been over for quite some time."

Ironhide shakes his helm, staring into his cube to avoid Ratchet's optics.

"Don't think I can settle for just one mech when there's so much fun to be had out there." He says cockily.

_Because the only mech that send his spark spinning and makes his knees go weak is already taken._

He won't ever say that though. _Especially not to Ratchet._ Just like he never takes the Medic up on the invitations to hang out in his place, and he never spontaneously drops by either. _He knows how many ways that could go wrong. With Drift sitting there, sleek and powerful, giving him that smile that is both a curse and a promise, and the only thing he can do is pray to Primus that nobody else is going to see those looks._

The Topkick steers the conversation to other things, to take his mind off the beautiful ex-Con who somehow wound up with Ratchet. Inane things, like what Earth is like these days, what place is the best vacation resort in the galaxy this time of year, anything to fill the silence. _Anything to keep his mind off what he can't have, what Ratchet has._

The empty cubes are lining up on the table, and Ironhide brings them new as soon as the last one is drained.

"You know, I don't think I could ever find a better goddamned friend than you. Even if I tried for my entire fucking functioning." Ratchet slurrs.

_He really wishes he wasn't. He wants to be the worst friend ever, because then he could go after Drift, he could get what he wants. He wouldn't be left to sleep alone in his cold berth, pathetically jerking off while thinking of a sleek Race frame, luxuriously stretched out in the berth, covered in silky, imported sheets, warm and willing. Waiting for _Ratchet_ as soon as he gets home, even though it's obvious that Drift wants something else._

He could go for it without being a bad friend. Mechs grow apart. Surely Ratchet would understand? He'd want both his best friend and Drift to be happy, right? But in his spark, Ironhide knows that it wouldn't work like that. Ratchet seems oblivious of Drift having his optics on someone else. The betrayal would be as unexpected as unforgiveable.

*****

Against better judgement, he accepted the invitation. Spark spinning, legs feeling wobbly at the prospect of seeing Drift again, Ironhide walks up the stairs and knocks at the door. 

Almost everyone is there already, and he exvents to calm his nerves as much as out of relief. 

_In this crowd, it'll be fine. It's just one night, and there's so many other mechs around._

And it is fine for a long time. Ironhide's careful not to drink to much, to make sure he doesn't say something he shouldn't, and whenever his optics meet Drift's across the room, he's careful not to let the moment drag out and looks away.

"Hey, Hide! How's it hanging?" A clearly inebriated Ratchet shouts into his audial — volume at least two levels above necessary — and slings his arm across the Weapons specialist's shoulders.

"Nice party, Ratch. I see the old ambulance is still earning his nickname."

Across the room, Drift catches his optics, intake pulling into that smile that promises hours and hours of pede curling pleasure. Ironhide feels his array go hotter, and he just can't look away.

"You know, there's still a few of the others who're single. In case you want some fun for the night. Or possibly someone to settle down with." Ratchet blurts, too drunk to deliver his matchmaking with any finesse at all.

_If Ratchet was dead, he could have the only one he really wants._

Ironhide immediately recoils at the thought. "I'll get right on it. Must be someone out there who needs to get cock tonight."

Ratchet cackles a laugh, and then he swoops along to give important drunken advice to someone else.

*****

The night is winding down, and Ironhide is getting ready to leave. Most of the mechs have left already, a few have passed out on various pieces of furniture, and Ratchet has gone to berth hours ago. He walks quietly through the apartment when a movement catches his attention out of the corner of his optic. He swivels around and peeks into the dimly lit office.

_Drift._

His spark hiccups when the Racer smirks at him. Without his consent, Ironhide's frame takes a step forward, and he stops in the doorway, optics roaming the expanse of shiny plating. Drift leans his aft against the desk, minutely shifting his knee outward in a silent invitation.

It's surreal; the overwhelming temptation in a place where there should be none, and Ironhide briefly wonders if he's just a pawn in some cruel game the Gods are playing for Friday night fun. _He sure wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly heard Unicron cackling in his audial._

_What if he accepted the invitation? What if he did this? Drift wants him. Ratchet would get over it eventually._ The Topkick steps forward into the room, and Drift's grin widens, showing off fangs he hasn't gotten rid of, even if it was a very long time ago since he was last known as Deadlock, something that just makes him more appealing.

_But what if Drift won't go with him? What if Drift smiles like that too all mechs? What if he isn't more than a current challenge, entertainment, for the Speedster? What if they'd do something here tonight, but then never go further than the once? He knows the statistics: cheaters always say that they'll leave their conjux for their lover, but mostly, they never do. He'd ruin everything with Ratchet, would lose his best friend, and he still wouldn't have Drift. And even if nobody ever found out, he'd have to live with the shame of knowing what he'd done behind Ratchet's back. No, he couldn't. He'd offline himself from the guilt and shame._

Unicron would have to lose the game tonight. There is nothing there for Ironhide to win by doing this. He shakes his helm, stepping backwards out of the room. Drift's smile falters, and he looks... _Sad? Crushed? Disappointed? Annoyed?_ Ironhide can't tell. _It doesn't matter. It's not worth the risk to ruin everything, just for the chance that he would gain the only one he want._

With heavy steps, he walks out of the apartment, spark cold, because he might just have blown his only chance to make Drift his. _But what if Drift looks at other mechs too like that? What about when Drift gets tired of him? Will he be betrayed too? He really should tell Ratchet, tell him that Drift is in the market. But he can't do that to Drift._

**Author's Note:**

> A bad movie on, we're sitting around talking  
about life, and the weather, like good friends  
We're talking old memories, and about girlfriends we've had  
but I don't say anything about the woman who makes me so weak
> 
> You're my best friend, but I never come over to your place for a visit  
because I know how that might go  
Because she sits there, smiling, and I'm praying   
that the looks she gives, are looks only I can see
> 
> 'cause when she smiles at me, I wish that you were dead, my friend  
But if she kissed me once, just to turn back home  
Out of guilt and shame, I'd put the rope around my neck  
and wait for nothing at all.
> 
> We drink our beers and keep talking  
About nothing at all, but we're still talking anyway  
A couple of hours later, when we're getting drunk  
you say "You're probably the best damned friend there is"
> 
> But I don't want to be, I want her  
She, who's laying in your bed, waiting for you to come home  
She's begging and praying, she wants something more  
out of life than what it offers now, but that's not something you see.
> 
> But when she smiles at me, I wish that you were dead, my friend  
But if she kissed me once, just to turn back home  
Out of guilt and shame, I'd put the rope around my neck  
and wait for nothing at all.
> 
> We're likely nothing more than a boardgame on the Gods' table  
But the one who plays with me will probably lose  
Because there's nothing here for me to win  
I just wish I knew if she looks at all men like that
> 
> The way she smiles at me makes me wish that you were dead, my friend  
But if she kissed me once, just to turn back home  
Out of guilt and shame, I'd put the rope around my neck  
and wait for nothing at all.


End file.
